The Unfinished Song: Taboo (32 page)

“Behold the Pearl of Sharkshead, the Dancer of the Sea, the Mervaedi!” cried Svego. He knelt on the ground. The Blue Waters tribesfolk all knelt before her. Kavio nodded to their party and they did the same.

A big man walked behind the Mervaedi and her retinue. All Blue Waters men seemed to be made of muscle, yet he still stood out amongst them as exceptionally formidable. Though a huge man, taller by a head than the Mervaedi’s strong bearers, not a bit of his trunk or arms had been wasted on fat. He was all thew. He possessed a thin nose and thick lips, and his cheeks were tattooed on both sides, as was his chest. Over a hundred tiny braids, beaded with bone, clinked together in his topknot. Svego had mentioned that a man added a braid for each life he took with his own hand, by combat or sacrifice. If so, Nargano had slain a whole clan’s worth. He was not a young man, but Dindi suspected he was tougher than most bucks half his age.

“I am the Henchman and the Champion of the Pearl of Sharkshead, the War Chief of Blue Waters tribe, Nargano of Three Pearls clan. I am the Voice for Blue Waters in this treaty.” His voice was deep as the sea and boomed over the assembly like a clap of thunder. His eyes flickered over Rthan, then settled on Kavio in a direct challenge that was almost, but not quite, openly derisive.

“I am Kavio, War Leader of Yellow Bear Tribe.” Kavio stepped forward. “I am the Voice for Yellow Bear in this treaty.”

“I am surprised to see you speaking for Yellow Bear instead of Rainbow Labyrinth,” said Nargano. “Or should I congratulate you on your marriage to a daughter of the Sun Ladder clan?”

“Negotiations of a betrothal are still in progress,” Kavio said smoothly.

Dindi stiffened. Kavio had never mentioned any betrothal plans to her.
But why
would
he tell you?
she
asked herself.
It’s none of your concern. It’s not as if you and he….
She blocked off the trail to the end of that thought.

The Mervaedi’s attendants set her chair in the place of honor. They placed four posts around her and spread the blue veil over the posts, creating a small tent around the turtle shell throne, so that even as she joined them at the feast, the Mervaedi herself remained hidden.

“It is taboo to look upon the face of the Mervaedi except on the Day of Turning,” Svego explained to the guests.

The Blue Waters tribesfolk had many taboos, Dindi was learning. They did not allow “slaves” to sit at the mats and eat with the other guests. Even though she was not a slave, she had to sit behind Gwenika.

“Sorry,” whispered Gwenika. “It’s not
my
idea.”

“I know,” Dindi whispered back. “I don’t mind.”

“It could be worse,” whispered Gwenika. “They don’t even let
those
people join the feast. I bet they are Shunned!”

Dindi glanced over her shoulder, to follow the jab of Gwenika’s finger. A handful of miserable waifs, wrapped in dirty rags, crouched behind the fish-drying racks, peeking enviously at the banquet. The feasting mats formed a rectangle that filled the whole plaza around the amphitheater, seating hundreds, probably every soul in Sharkshead…except the Shunned. They could only watch from the shadows.

The other non-Tavaedi warriors who had come as handservers to the Tavaedies also sat in the row behind.
Gremo sat behind Kavio. As usual, it was impossible to tell what the strange man with the rock lashed to his back was thinking.

In contrast, anyone could see Rthan’s fury and humiliation. He tried to sit at the mat next to Brena, but Nargano wondered out loud, as if to no one in particular, “Why does a slave think he can sit at our feast?”

Rthan’s face burned, but he removed himself.

“You are mistaken, War Chief,” Brena said boldly. “This man is my husband and it would dishonor me if he were not to eat by my side.”

Nargano’s eyes narrowed. “I stand corrected. Please join our feast, Rthan…of Yellow Bear.”

Strangely, Rthan did not look much happier when he moved back to sit at the mat. When Brena placed her hand on his arm, he shook her off.

The women brought bowls of food to the mats. Some of it promised to be delicious: Crab’s legs as big as legs of mutton, heaps of tiny moon-shaped shrimp, oysters on the half-shell, steaming fish and bean stew. Other dishes smelled more dubious: a gray paste ground from thistles, boiled roots, boiled sea cucumber, boiled seal blubber, blood soup, and something indescribably foul called
hakurl
that the Blue Waters folk seemed to all regard as a great delicacy. Rthan offered some to Kavio with a big grin and laughed out loud when Kavio forced himself to eat it.

Maidens brought jugs of beer and the feast grew reassuringly merry, as such feasts were supposed to do. Gwenika passed Dindi more food than she needed, or in the case of a few dishes, even wanted.

Drumming began, and a line of Tavaedies in indigo masks and mantels that glittered with pearls and shells danced into the center of the clearing.

“Vooma vooma!” cried the crowd.
Dance war!

The chant rose on an intoxicating wave of drums.

“
Vooma Vooma

Tae Tae

Vooma Vooma

Tae!
”

Rows of Blue Waters Tavaedies slithered to the depression in the center of the plaza to dance.

Gwenika whispered, “Dindi, this is our chance!”

Gwenika was right that no one noticed when the two girls slipped away, but Dindi felt a pang. The Blue Waters Tavaedies had a most unusual style of dancing and she couldn’t imagine anything more important than watching the Vooma.

“Our chance for what?” she asked.

“Shhhhh!” Gwenika darted her head from side to side nervously. “Our chance to help the Shunned!”

The Blue Waters Tavaedies leaped down onto the lowered stage. Their dance began unimpressively, with shakes and sways to a slow beat. Then abruptly the drums sped up. The Tavaedies threw off their outer robes, to reveal bodies almost naked except for blue and white paint, and a coating of oil that made their bare flesh gleam.

The women danced like snakes, all slithers and hips. Brena noticed the way Rthan devoured them with his eyes. These slim, sinuous creatures were what he expected women to be. She felt clunky and dour by comparison.

The men had a different style. They howled, flexed and stomped bare feet. Evidently, the dance they had chosen was a History, which was an odd selection for a dance competition. Histories usually required too much inside knowledge to be intelligible to outclanners, never mind outtribers.

The men and women separated to opposing sides of the arena, as part of their enactment. The women jumped… and disappeared from sight through the wooden planks of the stage floor. They flipped back up, all wearing yellow sun-shaped masks. The female dancers carried spears, grunted and stomped feet, an exaggerated version of the male dance.

Brena sat up straight. Fury boiled in her blood. The Blue Waters Tavaedies were mocking her people, suggesting that Yellow Bear warriors fought like women.

The men and women began to mock fight. To think she had been worried she wouldn’t understand the significance of the History. She understood the reference all too well.

At her side, Rthan hissed through his teeth. He had recognized the reference as well. The Tavaedies were re-enacting the New Moon Raid by Yellow Bear in which his wife and daughter had died. The male dancers played the part of victims of Yellow Bear treachery, but only to turn their spears around at the end of the dance, when their yowls of dying warriors changed back into the angry chant of the vengeance dance.

As soon as the
tama
finished, Brena stood up.

“Give me my mask!” she commanded Rthan.

He shoved the pack at her. She whipped the mask from her pack and put it on.

“Tavaedies, to me!”

The other five Yellow Bear Tavaedies joined her on the performance planks. They huddled together.

“The Blue Waters want to bring up the New Moon Raid? As if
we
were the villains? Do they think we will forget our dead from the Battle of Lark Creek so easily? Let us remind them that our dead also demand their debts collected in blood!”

The other dancers nodded. They were missing some roles, but Brena distributed the parts as accurately as she could and made suggestions for the oddly depressed stage. She assigned herself the role of a Blue Waters warrior.

The group sprang apart and began to dance the History of the Blue Waters attack.

They had barely finished the dance, when Rthan leaped down into the stage. He led the Blue Waters dancers in another History, this time the Burning of the Boats, an attack that had preceded the Battle of Lark Creek.

Brena refused to cede the stage. She waited with her arms crossed, and as soon as his
tama
ended, she cried out, “Tavaedies, remember the Slaughter of Arrow’s Run!” and the Yellow Bear Tavaedies began to dance.

Instead of withdrawing, Rthan shouted, “Tavaedies, remember the Seal Kin Killings!” and the Blue Waters Tavaedies began to dance too.

Neither group would give up the stage, so they fought their ghostly battles side by side, each seeking to outdo the other. She found herself dancing face to face with him, and she shivered, remembering the very different way he had danced with her during the Fertility tama, a lifetime ago. Now hate contorted his face.

“Our dead will be avenged!” Rthan shouted at her.

“You are the murderers!” she shouted back. “Can’t you see that?”

Kavio did not join the Vooma. He kept to his place at Nargano’s right side, to discuss his idea for reparations.

“The deathdebts your people incurred against Yellow Bear don’t need to be paid in blood,” Kavio said. “When two men are on a hunt and one accidently slays his clan brother instead of the deer, his life is not taken in forfeit, but he gives of his wealth to his clan brother’s bereaved wife and children. Let us behave not as outtribesmen but as clan brothers. We bring you thirty-one deathdebts. Give us thirty-one baskets of dried fish, shells, sponges, seal fur and mother-of-pearl, that we may consider those deathdebts paid.”

“How many turns of year are you, Kavio?” Nargano asked.

If there was one thing Kavio hated, it was when elders brought up his age. It was always meant to put him in his place.

“Eighteen turns,” he said. “If you will agree to the exchange of baskets, we can negotiate what will fill them.”

“Among our people, we do not allow you to become a Zavaedi until you have spent your full seven years as a Tavaedi, and we do not allow you to become a Tavaedi until you have been
Initiated
into adulthood. The reason is that young men with great power are still young men. Bloodthirsty and proud, vengeful and foolish.”

Except that I came to negotiate a peace
. “Yes, Uncle.”

“Young male Tavaedies always want to learn
tama
for the hunt, for storms, for war. They never study the History dances. If you would pay attention, you would see that the thirty-one deathdebts you bring me are only half the repayment of near a hundred deathdebts you owed us from the New Moon Raid.”

Nargano jabbed a finger at the Vooma. “You should talk less, watch more.”

So Kavio watched.

The magic swirling around the Tavaedies grew thick and tangled and he felt a headache coming on. He hoped he would not fall into one of his fits; he hadn’t lost control yet, but he did see Visions in the dances. Superimposed upon the dancers with their crude props, he caught glimpses of the battles and raids they evoked. Was this what Nargano wanted him to see?